Rosennis Stark did not think herself a fool. The opposite, in fact. Though the letter from her son made her reconsider.

She read Ren's words with a white-knuckled grip, an awful cold fury spreading through her entire body. Her son wasn't sure, but now he had raised the idea, Ross was. Cersei's children were not Robert's. Ren did not speculate on who the true father was, other than to say that he had little idea, but to her, it was as plain as day.

Saints, she - of all people - should have known. Ross knew what Jaime and Cersei had been to each other. Known exactly what secret the Queen would kill to protect. Jon Arryn had worked it out, Stannis too, and Arryn had died for it. Bran had heard something, something he did not understand, and Cersei sent her cousin Lancel to hire assassins to silence him.

Gods, if Ross was a fool, the Lannister twins were downright simple. She could believe Jaime when he said that he hadn't touched his sister since before Riverrun, if only for Cersei's obvious hatred of him. She knew he had gone back to her after the Rebellion. One child could be a mistake, and it was just a coincidence that Joffrey and Myrcella had been twins. Three children, however. Three royal bastards, with no trueborn heir in sight. At this point, she knew both Jaime and Cersei well, and had thought - well, not better of both of them, but she had not believed either would be so bloody stupid.

In an uncharacteristic display of rage, Ross tore the letter into four pieces, screwed it into a ball and threw it savagely into the fire, shaking hand covering her mouth to stop the scream of frustration escaping.

She could not even reply to Ren. Jaime received his letters, and she could not risk him reading it. Perhaps she could write to Jaime directly, though what would that accomplish? Telling Ned would start a war; he would go straight to Robert. Her son seemed to be in the same mind as she was, however; in his letter, he wrote that he would try and delay Ned from discovering anything. Her brother was loyal to his friend until the end; he would recognise that continuing the investigation would put him in danger, knew exactly what could happen, but would plough on regardless because it was the right thing to do

Though she was hardly going to sit tight in Winterfell and let this cascade out of control. Ross hastily scrawled a letter to her brother, hoping the raven would reach King's Landing fast. The news from Ren would already be weeks out of date. She told him to come home, as soon as he could. Come home, without asking questions; hang Robert, or anyone who said he couldn't. From her, Ned would find that concerning enough to, hopefully, listen.

She opened the door, about to march to the rookery there and then, only to come face to face with Robb, about to knock. Both of them jumped out of their skin.

"Auntie," Her nephew recovered, grinning. "Sorry to startle you. I - " He broke off. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," She waved him off, knowing she must have looked harried. "Walk with me, if you've something to say,"

He hastened to keep up with her long strides as she set off towards the rookery. "I had a question about those grain reports, and..."

Her mind was elsewhere, though as Robb spoke, she did try to listen. Her nephew was a good acting lord - his father had taught him well - though was, of course, still a boy. Ross and Maester Luwin were more than able to assist him, particularly with the accounts and finances, which no young boy had any time for. That was Ross' domain, as it had been even before she was married.

"... Oh, and Rickon is acting up again. He kicked his nursemaid and refused to sit down for his lessons, running out to play with with the wolves. We may need you to have another word with him,"

It had been an unpleasant surprise when the three wolves that had gone south had turned up here again. The men escorting them - Crow and Nymeria in cages, Lady running beside them - had told the whole sorry tale of what had happened near the Trident. Ross was half-tempted to go to King's Landing herself and give Joffrey the smacks his mother should have years ago, when she heard of what he had done to Morganna.

"I'll speak with him," She sighed. "But Robb - Rickon needs his mother, which I am not. As much as I've enjoyed being Lady of Winterfell again - " And avoiding the Dreadfort. " - your mother should be here, instead of galivanting off in the south,"

Her goodsister's ill-advised journey had not become any less irritating, since Catelyn had left.

"You don't think something's happened to her?" He tried to sound nonchalent, but she knew he was concerned. "When Father wrote to say she was travelling back by road, not sea..."

"I suspect she wanted to visit Riverrun," Ross said. "Or even the Eyrie. I'm sure we will hear from her, if that is the case, or else she will turn up at Winterfell's gates within the week,"

"Hm," Robb did not seem convinced, though there was not much more to say. "Who is your letter for?"

"Your father,"

"Is it urgent? You look in a hurry,"

Robb was more perceptive than he let on. Despite his open, friendly demeanour, since Ned had been gone she had noticed a change in her nephew. He took things more seriously, and was mindful of his duty, as honourable as his father in that regard. That was just growing up, she supposed.

"It is not urgent," She lied. "I am in a bad temper, is all. Ren was telling me of Morganna's misbehaviour in King's Landing,"

"Ah," Robb smiled, not even considering that she wasn't telling the truth. Why would he? "Nothing new, then,"

That won a smile from her. "No, unfortunately not,"

*

It was another godsforsaken letter that brought more bad news, less than a week later. Robb received this one, handed to him by the grim-faced Maester Luwin. His face fell abruptly the more he read.

"What is it?"

"I don't even know where to start," Her nephew looked almost pleadingly at the Maester.

"The beginning," Luwin prompted gently.

"Father resigned as Hand. Some argument with Robert about killing the Targaryen children in Essos,"

Ross twitched, as she always did at the mention of the name Targaryen. Then she realised the gravity of what Robb had said.

"That is good news, is it not?" Ned would leave King's Landing with the whole household, out of Cersei's reach without being any the wiser as to the Queen's secret. Robert was not one to hold a grudge, and even if he did, what did it matter? Her brother would be here for his family, where he belonged.

"Perhaps. Though that's not all," Robb cleared his throat. "Mother - Mother met with Tyrion Lannister on the road. She - took him into custody - "

Ross' expression grew dark enough that her nephew broke off. "Do continue," She said, cold. Expressing her unspeakable fury at Catelyn Tully would not do anyone any favours in that moment. She was almost too angry to speak.

"Accusing him and his family of sending an assassin after Bran. Upon hearing this, his brother Jaime Lannister - "

Oh gods, what now?

" - attacked Father and his men in the street, after Father tried to stop him leaving the city. He threatened Mother, which is why they tried to stop him. The fighting injured a few Winterfell men, but Father was knocked from his horse and - and he broke his leg, badly. He will keep the leg, but he only woke up the day this letter was sent - "

"After how long?" Ross asked sharply.

"A week, nearly,"

"Why was a letter not sent the day this happened?"

"I cannot say," Luwin said. "Perhaps they did not wish to alarm you unduly, before Lord Stark awakened,"

A silence.

"Of all the - " Ross bit back what she was going to say, not wanting to scare her nephew. She took a breath. "Of all the things that Lady Stark could have done, she just had to start a war with Tywin Lannister,"

"A war?" Robb said, alarmed. "This is all a misunderstanding, surely - "

"That will not matter to Lord Tywin," Ross cut him off. "He has his precious reputation to keep up. Even for a hated dwarf son. Anyone who dares lay hands on a Lannister will pay for it dearly. Even if your mother returned Tyrion this very instant, there will be retribution, beyond your Father's broken leg,"

And as if she wasn't angry enough at Jaime, he had to go and do that. Despite all the things he'd seen, inside he was thirty-three going on fifteen, reckless and hot-blooded.

Robb had gone very pale, grown enough to understand the situation. "What was she thinking?"

The boy had the right of it. It was madness, idiocy, dangerous and futile, because even if Tyrion had sent the assassin after Bran, what did it matter? They now had far bigger problems. It had to have been an impulse decision, because anyone who wasn't a simpleton couldn't have thought that that was a good idea after thinking about it for more than five minutes. Not to mention, Tyrion had nothing to do with any of it. It was Cersei, and Cersei alone - unless you counted Lancel - for she would hardly go to Lord Tywin with this particular problem.

Ross was not going to let the Tully woman damn her family to more misery, not when it had been so irreparably damaged before.

"Luwin," She snapped, nails digging so hard into her palms that the red crescents didn't fade. "When I can hold a quill in my hand without tearing right through the parchment, I am going to write a strongly worded messge to Riverrun, and the Eyrie. Catelyn will be taking Tyrion to one of the two," She would not dare bring him here, knowing Ross was waiting for her. "I do not believe she understands the gravity of the situation, nor that her actions have consequences. I will attempt to enlighten her. She will have to return the damned dwarf with grovelling apologies, or else Tywin Lannister will tear the RIverlands apart,"

Ross had learned that lesson herself long ago, both through the mistakes of men like Rhaegar and Aerys, and through actions of her own. There's nothing like giving birth to a bastard, aged sixteen and unwed, to bring any illusions left crashing down. It was a shame Jaime hadn't learned that lesson yet either. Or if he had, he seemed happy to ignore it.

"Oh, and my lady?" Luwin said. "Your son, Renan - he left for Winterfell, the same day that Lord Stark was injured,"

*

After, Ross went to the Godswood, everyone she came across moving out of her way with one look at her face. She stood facing the tree rather than sat by the pool, staring into its great red eyes, jaw set in anger, wanting to scream until her voice gave out. When was the last time she had not been angry, recently? Or scared? Her fear fed the anger and was growing inside her, gnawing like a hundred rats, day and night.

This was what it had been like last time. Small occurrences, incidents, happening often, and growing more and more frequent, more and more serious, until something happened to tip the balance, and all hell broke loose. Jon Arryn's death. Bran's fall. The assassin. Ned leaving. The wolves being sent back. Catelyn's idiocy. One filthy, stinking secret that had the whole of Westeros balanced on a knife's edge, whether they knew it or not.

Jaime, you bloody fool. Ross wondered if he'd even stopped to consider that she might actually be irritated with him for creating a situation that resulted in her brother being temporarily crippled. He probably had considered it, and brushed it off. Act first and apologise later, that was his way of things.

If Ned didn't come home, Ross did not know what she was going to do. Never mind her daughter. She bowed her head before the heart tree, sinking to her knees on the damp earth. I can't lose anyone else, please, I can't.

"Auntie?"

She looked up sharply, to see Bran hovering some way behind her, that wolf of his at his side. It shouldn't have surprised her, that he was here. The boy had been spending more time in the Godswood of late, seeing as he could not train in the yard; the maester did not want to risk his broken arm healing wrong, and the other could not hold a sword. Bran had seemed rather... lost, lately. Which she supposed could only be expected. He needed his mother as much as Rickon did. As much as Robb did, though he did a better job at hiding it.

"Hello, Bran,"

"Are you alright?"

He would get too honest an answer if she answered that. "Are you?"

"Not really," The boy said, coming to sit beside her. "I heard Rickon was bad again,"

Ross had not heard, yet, but no doubt she would be called to deal with it shortly. Rickon was a handul, even more so than any of her own children had been, and only aided by that monstrous black wolf of his. Ross was one of the few people aside from Robb and Aileen who could get him to toe the line, but it was clear she was not the mother the four year old wanted. Catelyn might have been strict, austere and a perfect lady as a mother, but she was practically soft compared to Ross. Rickon was just a baby, acting out of sadness and anger and wanting his mother, not the cold, hard-eyed woman who had replaced her. It wasn't just Rickon, either. Bran was a gentle, inquisitive boy who needed warmth and support from his mother rather than blunt realism and stern stares from his aunt.

"We'd best get back and sort it, then," She forced a smile.

*

"Mother," Ross looked up, rubbing her eyes and seeing Aileen stood at the door. It was a week or so after the letters had gone out, and she had slept poorly ever since.

"Yes?"

"I've been talking to Bran," Her daughter hesitated, and Ross suddenly noticed that her young nephew was stood behind Aileen, half-hidden. The girl's tone was enough for Ross to narrow her eyes and sit up a fraction straighter.

"Sit down, both of you," Aileen and Bran did so, the boy looking far too uneasy. "What's wrong?" Because something was definitely wrong.

"He remembers his fall," Even her normally stoic daughter was clearly rattled by something, which meant it could be nothing good.

Ross glanced at her nephew, who was pale and wide-eyed. Chances were that she knew all of this already. Though it did not hurt to fill in the gaps.

"What happened, Bran?"

The boy took a deep breath. "I know I didn't fall from very high," He said in a small voice. "But I'd been higher, before I fell. I'd gone all the way up to the First Keep, from the Broken Tower," He looked afraid that she was going to tell him off for that alone, but Ross remained silent. "I heard voices. A man, or boy, and - and a lady. They didn't sound very happy, and I never see anyone up there, so I went closer to listen. They were talking about..." He screwed up his face, trying to remember exactly. "Father. They didn't like it that Father was going to be the Hand. They talked about other things, but I'm sorry, I really don't remember,"

"It's fine,"

"Tell her who they were, Bran," Aileen prompted quietly, hands clasped in her lap.

The boy bit his lip. "The lady," He looked terrified. "She was the Queen,"

No more than she had expected. "And the man?" She would worry it were Jaime, had he not been with her when they heard Bran scream.

"He looked like a Lannister," The boy started. "And he was young. Maybe Ren's age. I think he was one of the King's squires,"

Lancel, then. As she suspected. This only confirmed that she was right.

But Bran hadn't finished. "They went quiet after a while, so I tried to have a look in the window. They were... naked, and wrestling, I don't know what they were doing,"

Ross' eyebrow shot up, an absurd stab of amusement running through her.

"But then I made a noise and the Queen saw me. She screamed, and I slipped trying to get away. I nearly fell but I caught the window ledge. They both pulled me up, but then they were arguing again. They seemed very scared, but I ran away. I suppose I was in such a hurry that I fell near the ground. I don't remember that bit either,"

She could not hold her laugh back any longer.

"Sorry," She had to clarify, at the startled looks on Bran and Aileen's faces. "I'm not laughing at you falling, I - " She broke off, laughing again.

She probably shouldn't have found the thought as funny as she did, given the seriousness of the situation and the fact that she was a grown woman over thirty years old, but she couldn't help it, and started to laugh in true. Cersei Lannister, the proud and beautiful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, a year older than Ross herself, was fucking her fifteen-year-old cousin. Who looked like a poor shade of the Queen's dear twin brother.

"Mother?" Aileen frowned, surprised.

"Sorry," She forced her face straight, but for the first time in years wasn't entirely successful. "I shouldn't laugh, I just - " She broke off again, trying not to grin. Gods, she hadn't acted this much like a silly little girl since she was giggling with Lya in the Maester's lessons over anatomical drawings in books. Ross focused on thoughts of her sister, which quickly sobered her up. "Who else knows about this?"

"No one but us," Her daughter replied, still looking at her oddly.

"Good, let's keep it that way," She looked at Bran. "You did well remembering this. It's very important, but has to stay a secret for now. Don't even tell Robb, or Maester Luwin,"

"I won't," The boy nodded solemnly. "But Aunt Ross - is this why that man tried to kill me?"

"Most likely," She didn't see any point in trying to sugarcoat it. "The man did tell us he'd been hired by a golden-haired man in a cloak. Probably Lancel, Ren always said he was a cowardly little brat. You shouldn't worry though, he's in King's Landing now, and not brave enough to hire anyone else after the first put us on our guard," She remembered the bloody mess the assassin had been found in. "Just keep that wolf with you,"

Aileen took Bran away, and Ross leant back in the chair, thinking hard. Her lips twitched. It was immature, she would freely admit, but it felt good to be laughing, for once. Soon she was smirking to herself again at thoughts of Cersei.

*

She heard the long howl from far away, and knew before the guardsman opened his mouth what he was going to say.

"Lady Rosennis," The man said. "Your son, he's - "

Ross was already on her feet, hurrying to the door, down the stairs and out into the courtyard, just as a tall, lean rider trotted through the gates, a rangy black direwolf at the horse's heels. Crow, who had spent the days since the wolves returned skulking about the castle scaring servants, when he wasn't hunting in the Wolfswood with the other five, had rejoined his master. The horse was remarkably un-skittish around the great beast, which was now the size of a small pony, though you could see the whites of the animal's eyes.

"Mother," He dismounted easily.

The moment he touched the floor, the wolf pressed its head into his hand. Ren indulged it for a moment before giving her a brief one-armed hug and taking his horse's reins; as a bastard, he didn't expect the stableboys to take care of his horse for him. As he began leading the mare towards the stables, the direwolf loped away, reunion clearly complete, and Ross fell in step beside him. He's grown again. He had to be as tall as Jaime now. At the thought of Jaime she scowled.

"Have you heard any word of Lord Stark?" He asked. "I left the day he was attacked. They should be here, soon - Poole was arranging a ship,"

"You must not have heard," Ross said. "Your uncle awoke six days after you left, he can walk with a crutch. I overestimated Robert's ability to hold a grudge. He's been reinstated as Hand,"

It was one of the rare times she saw Ren's face drop. "They're staying in King's Landing? All of them?"

"I sent a letter, telling him to come home as soon as he could. It should have arrived a week ago, given when I sent it. I've heard nothing back, though that is not unexpected, if they left in a hurry,"

Ren did not look any less tense. "I hope for all our sakes he has listened,"

This was no longer a conversation to have in the courtyard. "Come to the solar, once you've seen to your horse and bathed. Oh, and Ren? Congratulations,"

He looked puzzled for a moment, then smiled. "You know, I keep forgetting I'm a knight,"

"How much was the horse?" She cast a critical eye over the beast.

"Don't make me repeat it," He said wryly. "She's worth it, though. You'd hate riding her - she's reliable, steady, and has not once tried to kill me,"

"Dull," Ross agreed, making him smile.

*

"What I said in my last letter - "

"Is true," Ross said, once they were in private. "All of it. You are completely right, and I was stupid not to see it before,"

"The whole Seven Kingdoms did not see it," Ren said. "You're far from the only one,"

"But I knew - " She broke off.

Her son's eyebrow rose. "Knew what?"

She had not wanted to reveal that, though he would not let it go now. "Have you paid any thought to who fathered Cersei's children?"

"I've had a lot of time to think about it," He said slowly. "I thought it had to be one of the Kingsguard - the Queen wouldn't be left alone with anyone else but her family. Selmy, no, too honourable, and too old. If Oakheart hadn't joined three years after Tommen was born, I'd suspect him. Blount, Trant, Moore and Greenfield, all too plain, the Queen wouldn't risk it for them. There's no chance a girl who looks like Myrcella is the daughter of Boros Blount. Then there's Jaime, her brother. So I suppose it must be Oakheart's predecessor in the Kingsguard, or otherwise anyone who managed to sneak past the guards. Maybe a cousin is more likely. Has she got any cousins older than Lancel?"

"Several," Ross shook her head. "But it's not them,"

"You know who it is?" He asked her sharply. "How? Did you notice anyone hanging around, in the time you spent with Cersei?"

"I think you passed over one member of the Kingsguard too easily,"

He frowned. "Greenfield? Moore? Oakheart's predecessor, a man so dull I can't even remember his name? Who?"

She smiled without any humour. "Lannister,"

A heavy silence.

"Did you forget the part about the Queen being Jaime's twin sister?" Her son asked, skeptical. "Or are you expecting Edrick and Aileen to have a litter of bastard children at some point in the near future as well? He can't stand her, besides, and she hates him,"

"You can joke all you like," Ross leant back in her chair, staring at him. "Jaime Lannister loved his sister since they were children. He only joined the Kingsguard so they could be together. Even after she married Robert, they still..."

There was an odd look on Ren's face. "How do you know that?"

"I found a letter, when we were in King's Landing. Aerys' court," She laughed bleakly. "From Cersei to Jaime. It read... wrong, from a sister to a brother. Jaime came back to my chambers to look for the note, and saw me reading it. He... panicked. Threatened to kill me, actually. If I hadn't known before, how he reacted as good as confirmed it,"

A silence.

"Why was Jaime in your chambers to leave a letter behind in the first place?" Her son's question held a note of accusation.

"What are you trying to imply?" Ross narrowed her eyes. None of her children had ever gotten away with speaking to her like that.

"Don't start with that," Ren snapped. "That's why Stannis and Arryn wanted to see me, alongside Loreon, wasn't it? They wanted to compare what Lannister blood looks like. I've had a lot of time to think, on the road from King's Landing. I wondered before, of course I did, but you always said otherwise, and why would my own mother lie to me?"

This was the last thing she needed. Though Ross supposed she owed the truth to her son, the way he spoke to her was testing her patience. Patience that was frayed as it was.

"If you want to ask a question, then ask it," She said coldly.

Ren did not waste any time. "He's my father, isn't he. Though the question remains - was it no more than a desperate affair under Aerys Targaryen's nose, or do you still let him into your bed? I'd have thought you'd have more self respect than to let yourself be second best to a man who lies with - loves - his own sister,"

Ross could have slapped him. She even got to her feet, but realised then he would likely reach out and stop her. He'd been stronger than her for a while, she knew that, but only now did it truly hit her. Her little boy was a man, a knight, with a sword and strength she'd never have. A man, whose words were cold, harsh and judging. Memories ran through her mind, of the noble Kingsguard guarding the door, of Jaime holding her back as her father burned and her brother died, of Roose Bolton's quiet, deadly words the night before their wedding, of a thousand scornful words and glances.

Her dangerous silence was enough to have Ren hesitate; out of regret for his words, or out of residual childhood fear of her anger, she was not sure.

"Mother - "

"Yes, Jaime Lannister is your father," Her voice was colder, crueller, older than his, steady but full of barely-restrained rage. "Quick to judge, aren't you? All those times you defended me from those who called me a whore, only to look at me just the same way yourself when things don't fit the idea you had in your head,"

He winced. "Mother, I am just trying to understand - "

She cut him off. "You do not want to understand the reasons I had. It is not your place to understand,"

The challenge earned a glower. "Try me,"

Is that what you really want to hear, from your own mother's mouth? That it was a way to feel like my body was somewhat my own, a short time where I didn't have to think about the hell I was living? No, you don't want to hear, and I don't want to tell you, because you have no idea what it feels like to be so powerless, and never will.

"No. You are barely more than a boy, and I am your mother," The last word was practically a snarl. "I don't have to justify myself to you. I had hoped my son thought higher of me than a gratuitous harlot with no self respect," She felt a vicious stab of satisfaction at his flinch. "Would you have preferred being the son of Mad Aerys? Because if you want to hear the honest truth, it was significantly more likely that you would be born from blood and pain and hatred,"

Ren's jaw clenched, but he was silent.

"When you were born with dark hair and green eyes instead, I could've wept with relief," She was increasingly feeling like weeping now, remembering that little boy she had sat on her knee, whispered to when no one else was there, cradled to her body as she rode out of the sacked gates of King's Landing at long last.

She didn't weep, though. Of course she didn't.

"One of my happiest memories," Her voice softened a little. "Is holding you in my arms as I watched the last Targaryen King bleed out on the floor beneath the Iron Throne, knowing that you would be safe at last, and that I would be too,"

A silence. She held her son's green-eyed stare. Jaime's eyes. Then he backed down and leant back in his chair, the fight leaving his eyes. Ren looked exhausted. He must've ridden like the wind to make that journey in the time he did.

"I could kill him," He said hoarsely. "Jaime, I mean. For leaving you alone to suffer the shame of having a bastard son. For choosing Cersei - "

"He has not touched Cersei in over a decade. He can't stand her, and she can't stand him,"

"How do you know - "

"She asked him to kill Giana. Would you be able to stomach loving a woman who asked you to kill Aileen or Morganna?"

"Fair enough," He did not look happy. "Still. There was a chance, at the end of the Rebellion, for him to leave the Kingsguard. He should have done the right thing,"

"I wouldn't have said yes, even if he wanted to ask. I wanted to go home, and grieve my sister. Don't make me out to be a pathetic young girl desperately wishing the handsome knight will honour her with an offer of marriage, Ren, because I wasn't,"

Another pause.

"That tourney we attended, at Riverrun, when I was little. Morganna wasn't born long after that, was she?"

"She wasn't," Ross raised an eyebrow, her tone flat. "She was also a small baby, born eight and a half months after Riverrun. She has dark hair and grey eyes, and she's beautiful like my sister Lyanna,"

That was a conversation for another time.

"Arya looks like Lyanna," Her son said, noting but ignoring the pointed hint to leave it. "Morganna looks like the Queen, with a longer face and a sharper nose. That's why you didn't want her going south,"

"Speculate all you want," Ross said, not rising to it. "It won't do anyone any good. As far as anyone is concerned, Morganna is a Bolton. You have enough to think about, now you know Joffrey is your half-brother,"

Ren looked disgusted by that, leaning back in his chair, and the look was so like Jaime she had to crack a faint smile.

"Not to mention fact that the kingdom is on the edge of war, where peace depends on Lord Stark keeping his honour in check," He said. "Can we do anything, from here? Any ravens sent to King's Landing now will be checked, and it's not like asking Tywin Lannister to just let this one go will do anyone any good,"

The idea was absurd.

"Do we tell Robb?" Her son continued. "He's the acting Lord of Winterfell. But short of calling the banners, what can he do either? Nothing,"

"We don't tell anyone," She said. "If Ned knows what Lord Arryn died for, he'll be on his guard, he's not an idiot, just a stubborn idealist. Cersei can't do anything openly against him, not with Robert as King. If Ned tells him the truth, Robert will kill Cersei, and possibly the children too. Tywin Lannister will go to war over it, for sure, but what allies does he have, really?"

"The Baratheons, through marriage, and they'll go to Robert of course," Ren replied. "Dorne hates him. The North and Riverlands don't trust him and would side with Robert, along with the Vale if it turns out Cersei killed Jon Arryn. The Reach will go to the highest bidder and whoever's most likely to win - inevitably the crown. Hells, even the Greyjoys wouldn't say no to a bit of pillaging the Westerlands,"

"Tywin's pride would drive him to ruin," Ross agreed. "He can't hope to win against six kingdoms,"

"That's our worst case, then," Her son looked amused. "A war that may destroy the West and Riverlands, which the North will surely be involved in but won't go anywhere past the Neck. Really, it could be worse,"

Ross didn't laugh at the poor joke. "Don't say that. When Rhaegar Targaryen gave my sister a crown of winter roses, everyone thought at the time that the worst thing to come out of it would be a few angry Dornishmen and Elia Martell's hurt feelings,"

*

The third letter arrived a few days later, in the early morning. By nightfall, half the ravens in Winterfell's rookery had been sent flying.

Sansa's hand, but Cersei's words. Ross read the letter before Robb this time, and everything else around her became muffled and distant, drowned out by the ringing in her own ears. Just like last time. Ned was arrested for treason in King's Landing. Ross was far away in Winterfell. Her own daughter, her two young nieces, were hostage to the whims of a cruel young boy.

Whilst Robb and Maester Luwin composed diplomatic letters to the Iron Throne, the Northern bannermen and their allies in the south, Ross took advantage of a decade of being in Cersei Lannister's favour. A personal letter to the Queen, calling on their odd, twisted friendship for whatever it counted for, to treat her family gently.

Rosennis Stark was a proud woman, but she was also, if nothing else, a survivor, willing to claw her way through whatever she had to. She was not above grovelling flattery if it spared her child any amount of pain. Cersei would have bristled at the idea of writing such a letter herself, but the Queen had never seen her father die on a pyre, her brother choked to death, nor her sister bleed out from childbed. Would she care if she did?

The Queen liked to think herself the most clever, the most powerful, the most in control. Ross, with her letter, was granting her all of that, a graceful way to win without causing damage. And if Cersei did not listen, if Morganna was harmed, or Arya, or Sansa, or Ned, then Ross would see the Queen's heart ripped from her body and fed to the wolves. Perhaps then she might understand what it was, to see someone you love die.

*

Edited November 2024